


so I stayed in the darkness with you

by Skyepilot



Series: We End Where We Begin [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Flirting, Beard of Sorrow Coulson, Changing Relationships, Complicated Relationships, Crying, Daisy's hair, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Facial Shaving, First Kiss, Healing, Love, Male-Female Friendship, Men Crying, Older Man/Younger Woman, Shaving, Survivor Guilt, Sweet, Taking Things Slow, ha ha, phil crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 18:39:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6999910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short Season 4 speculative fic.  Daisy and Phil's complicated and ever-changing relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so I stayed in the darkness with you

**Author's Note:**

> This basically was started before "catch me if you can", but they're basically related works, I just skipped ahead to write the sexytimes first. :)

It's as though his mouth is permanently turned downward.  
  
He wasn't the type of man to ever laugh, but at least there was warmth in his eyes, a light in them.  
  
She doesn't know what to say to him, instead she just finishes tending to his arm in the small safehouse she uses in this part of Oregon. One of many.  
  
This is one reason she had separated herself from them, if she’s honest with herself. To keep them safe in order to do what she _had_ to.

Talbot could spend all day talking good intentions, while what came to fruition was just the opposite.  
  
As he sits here it’s almost though he won't acknowledge her. Like she's invisible.  
  
“Phil.”  
  
He blinks for a moment, coming back to her, intensifying his frown.   
  
“When was the last time you shaved?” she asks. It doesn’t look like he’s been eating well, either.  
  
He sighs then blinks. “I don't know.”  
  
“Then let me, huh?” She touches her fingers to his shoulder lightly, carefully, so he knows she’s done patching him up.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
She walks to the bathroom as he trails after her, stopping to look up at his appearance in the mirror and then looking down.  
  
Shame.  
  
Is he beating himself up for being rescued? Leaving his team behind to clean up after her mess?  
  
She gets out the razor set from the drawer. She leaves it there for the Inhumans who pass through on their way to safety.  She turns on the sink.  
  
“When?” He asks, as the mirror steams up.  
  
“When what?”  
  
“Are you going to stop running?”  
  
He's appraising her now. Looking over the wavy blonde wig and the flouncy hippie dress with daisies on it, which she thought was funny at the time of purchase.  
  
“I don't know.” It's an unfair question, anyway. “How about, when people like me stop being chased?”  
  
He huffs at that and sits on the edge of the counter when she pats it deliberately. “Smart ass.”  
  
“You could run, you know,” she tells him, looking out the corner of her eye, as she sprays the shaving cream onto her hand and reaches for his face.  
  
He jerks back reflexively, and then gets very still when her fingers brush along his jaw.  
  
“And when they bring you in? What then?” he says, raising his chin to accommodate her.  
  
“What a vote of confidence,” she muses, dabbing her fingertip above the spot below his nose.  
  
“Denial, that's good,” he says sarcastically, nodding as she turns his face to get the other side. “I know what that's like.”  
  
He's turning morose again, she can feel it spilling out on them, thickening the atmosphere between them. She'd rather have the bitterness.  
  
She shakes her head, and his eyes dart up to hers for only a moment, and she catches a glimpse of their glistening surface.  
  
He's not a man who cries, either.  
  
She breathes out, and picks up the razor and lifts it, drawing it along up to his cheek gently, then taps it out into the sink.  
  
The high pitched noise forces its way out from in his chest, and he's almost as startled by it as she is, his eyes growing wide. Then he frowns that frown again, and buries it when she throws her arms around him, gathers him against her.  
  
“D-“

He's trying to say her name as he hides his face against her neck, his hands not sure where to safely rest.  
  
“I had to stay away,” she tells him, tightening her arms. “To do the right thing.” She says it like she’s comforting herself, in whispers against him. “You did everything you could.”  
  
“It wasn't enough,” he chokes back.

“It was…I just.” She realizes she's crying too when he touches his fingers to her cheek and she feels the wetness.  
  
“I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you cry. None of this is your fault.”

She wants to tell him it isn’t his, either. To say that she couldn't lose him, that it's what she'd become so terrified of.  She couldn't walk away, even though she knew, when he lost his hand, she should've.  
  
Instead she pulls him forward by his shirt and kisses him with feeling.  
  
He makes a struggling noise and she quickly lets go, steps back. “I'm sorry. It's just…you’re always chasing me, coming for me, it makes me feel like…”  
  
“What?!” he seems floored and enraptured at the same time, mouth hanging open.  
  
“I don't know. That you want me. I had all these feeling for you, and I never knew where to put them-“  
  
“I don't let myself have those feelings,” he blurts out. “You’re half my age, for one!”

She’s not sure if she’s too offended to be sad by that, and drops her hands to her sides in frustration.

“What’s two, then?!” she shoots back.

“Can you…,” he begins, trying to start over, then looks at her hair again, distracted. “Will you take that off?  Please? So I can just see you?”

She thinks it over for a moment, then nods and loosens the pins in her hair until she can slide the wig off, not meeting his eyes, until she feels his fingers brush through the damp, close cropped hair, along her temple to her ear.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, then sighs her name.

And it all changes.  Just like that.

A glimpse in the mirror makes her laugh at them, as she wipes his shaving cream off her face.

“You have no idea what you want,” she says, picking up the can of shaving cream again, determined to give it another try.

He lets her shave him quietly, watching, as this other layer is shed, stroke by stroke.

She thinks, he’s always managed before, to understand the way she sees the world.  Tried to explain it to him, once.

Why should this time be different? They’re equals now.  Maybe he can’t handle it.  He’s not her boss.  He’s sure as hell not her father. She’s not a consultant, or an agent. Technically, he should be doing his job and trying to bring her in.

When she drains the sink, he lifts her hand, unexpectedly, and touches it against his face, sliding it, bare and smooth, along her skin.

She’s about to pull her hand back, when he brushes his lips across her knuckles, and her breath catches in her chest.

“You once told me, that at least we were in the dark together.”

“I can’t let you-“

“I’m not trying to get myself killed on your behalf. If that’s what this is about.”

She looks at the bandage on his arm, and thinks about how she panicked when part of the warehouse fell on him.  That all she knew was that she needed to get to him.

“I mean, I love you.  Just not that much,” he finishes.

He’s trying to be funny, and too sincere, and she can’t help but smile and sniffle as she holds back more tears.  He knows her too well.

“Temporary truce, then, while I make you something to eat?”  She asks, squeezing her fingers around his wrist, now that she feels like she has some kind of permission to.

“Since you’re not going to let me take you in, I suppose,” he shrugs, raising his eyebrows as he hops off the sink.

It _almost_ seems like he’s flirting with her. 

Almost. She’s never been quite sure, but it makes her grin.

She's going to find out.


End file.
